Название: The Long Road Home
Автор: Mary Monroe Alice
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9781408976005
isbn:
In the mirror, the burgundy notebook was visible in her bag. In that same bag, beneath wool sweaters, nestled a shirt box. And in that shirt box was a stash of personal letters, memos, and a pocket diary that she’d found on Mike’s desk the day he died. Papers that were scattered next to an empty bottle of bourbon and a loaded ashtray.
Mike had called her to New York from her house in Connecticut, yelling over the wire that it was urgent. So she had come, against her better judgment, only to be ignored once again. Until that night, before he died.
“Don’t trust anyone,” he’d told her, roughly awakening her. He was drunk, again, and the sour smell of bourbon and smoke descended upon her like a winter cloud.
At first she was afraid. Something in his voice had changed; she heard it even in her sleepy stupor. The anger was gone. The arrogance was gone. In its place she heard desperation and fear.
“Don’t trust anyone.” That was all he’d said. That and a firm shake and an intense stare. So intense. Telling her in that gaze that he was leaving. Warning her that she was on her own now. Perhaps, too, that he was sorry. She liked to think that anyway.
Nora closed the suitcase, zipped it, and locked it. Whatever secrets lay hidden in that notebook, she’d uncover them later. On her own. One thing was certain—she would keep her secrets from Ralph Bellows.
“Mrs. MacKenzie?” Trude stood at the door, arms akimbo.
Nora could tell she’d overheard the entire exchange. “Well, I’m all set to go,” said Nora with false enthusiasm.
Trude clenched her lips and nodded. “Well then, let’s get you go.”
Nora walked over and touched Trude’s shoulder. “I wish I could take you with me.”
“I not ask for much,” Trude replied, opening the door once again for an offer.
Nora sighed and shook her head. “I couldn’t pay you. I don’t know how I can take care of myself, let alone anyone else. And what about Roman and the children?”
“They love mountains. Live good. Cheap.”
For a wild second Nora considered it. How good it would be to have them nearby. Friendly faces and support.
“I wish I could,” she replied, looking into Trude’s disappointed face.
Trude nodded. “I know. I had to try, though.”
Nora hugged Trude in a rush. Trude faltered, standing stiff in awkwardness. Nora felt awkward too at this rare show of physical contact. Suddenly, however, Trude responded and Nora felt true affection in the Polish woman’s bear hug.
“You’re the only family I’ve got left,” Nora whispered.
“You take care of yourself, hear?” Trude said, pulling back and revealing a flash of tears. “Here. Piroshki for the car. I make them. You be sure to eat them.”
“I will, I will.” Nora laughed, moving back.
She picked up the suitcase. It was unusually heavy. With his papers and notes, Nora was taking Mike with her.
“I will carry for you,” Trude said.
“No,” Nora replied. “I have to carry this.”
She took one last look at the apartment. The sun was setting now and poured in through the slats of blinds, creating vertical shadows across the parquet. Her luxury apartment never looked more the prison it had been for years.
“Don’t trust anyone.” Mike’s last words to her sounded again in her head.
“I don’t,” she said to the ghost. Nora turned away, her shoulders drooping with the weight of Mike’s message.
“I’ll never trust anyone again.”
3
NORA PAID THE TOLL and asked for a receipt.
Now that she was off the Thruway, she felt New York was truly behind her. In her head, she knew that a place could not make someone happy or unhappy, rather the life one led there. But her heart didn’t buy it. In her heart, she believed she’d be happier once she crossed the Vermont border.
The small white sign with green lettering welcomed her to the Green Mountain State. Speeding by at fifty miles per hour she felt a rush of exhilaration as she crossed the line. “Whoopee!” she called aloud as she rolled down the window and stuck her nose out like any perk-eared dog. Fresh cool air gushed in. She inhaled deeply. Vermont did feel better. The mountains were prettier, the grass was greener, and, hot dog—she was headed home.
The Volvo hummed along on the state highway, past small towns with red general stores and lone gas stations that boasted two pumps. Nora paid attention to all the markers now; it had been a while since she’d traveled these roads. She chewed her lip as she navigated the journey. Did she turn left at this blinking light? Which way did she veer when the road split by the green warehouse?
Following both memory and instinct, she guided the car toward the small mountain she called home. A brook ambled over white rocks along the side of the road, black-and-white cows chewed lazily in the pastures. She passed Ed’s syrup stand, rounded a steep turn, and there it was. She recognized it immediately. Why had she thought she wouldn’t?
Her mountain. The center of the small tree-covered mountain sagged like a saddle on an old horse. A first memory flashed.
“Let’s hike to the saddle,” Mike said. He already had his boots on, a picnic basket packed with crusty bread, strong-smelling cheese, and a cold bottle of white wine, and in his arm he carried a red-and-black wool blanket. His eyes flashed in invitation.
Nora grabbed a sweater and Mike. “Let’s go.”
The saddle was a long hike up, across steep terrain, over marble and granite boulders, and through muddy valleys. But once there the grass was as soft as baby hair. Wild berries flourished and the sun shone freely up where the trees didn’t grow. It was a favorite resting place of deer. A heavenly spot—divine for lovemaking.
Nora tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. “Mike, Mike,” she murmured. She was afraid of her grief and the unexpected turns it took. Was it a good idea to come back here of all places? The one place they had been happy.
The road curved and led into the neighboring town, really just one long road between Victorian farmhouses that were now antiques stores and bed-and-breakfasts, a needlepoint shop, the post office, a hardware store, a pizza parlor, and, busiest of all, the corner grocery. Nora pulled in to pick up some supplies.
The small store was in fact grocery, liquor store, bookstore, and video rental shop all rolled into one confined space. The front four-square windows were plastered with local notices: the firemen were having a water show in Rutland on Saturday, Wild Bird Weekend brought a special seed sale, and a brightly colored banner invited everyone to a contra dance in October. Baskets of apples, squash, and mums bordered the store’s narrow entry. Nora selected two apples and squeezed in past the baskets.
Inside, СКАЧАТЬ